


Locker Boy

by orphan_account



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bucky is jealous af, Dark!Bucky, Dom!Steve, High School AU, M/M, Stony - Freeform, Tony Needs a Hug, bottom!tony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-15
Updated: 2015-10-15
Packaged: 2018-04-26 13:49:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5007100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one had ever imagined the football player and the nerd might get together, especially when the nerd was another guy, but things change when Steve Rogers walks into the locker room and hears a voice inside a nearby locker begging for help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Tony Stark had hit his growth spurt early. From day one of high school, he was the cool kid. He was tall, handsome, had more facial hair than your average high school student, and, oh yeah, he was rich. That helped a lot. After the death of his parents, the owners of a major arms company, he had inherited both a company and a fortune. The company, he stowed away for later figuring he could take it when he was older, and for then should learn more, get smarter, and become acquainted with the business world. He grew up in the spotlight, people watching his every move, and he loved it, at first. Money can buy you happiness, if you have enough of it, and so the boy bought his friends, had girls hanging off his arms everywhere he went, but had few people who actually liked him for who he was, except one boy, Steve Rogers, his favorite victim.

Steve Rogers had hit his growth spurt late. Throughout high school, he had been short, skinny, and scrawny. He worked out, but never gained any muscle, ate his fruits and vegetables, and never gained any height. All in all, he was never really much to look at, but he certainly had a lot to look at. He had a bully, and one that he had a huge crush on. Tony Stark teased him, pushed him around sometimes, but never really harmed him or did anything too upsetting. In the end, it was just harmless taunting, and never really got to Steve.

By college, Tony had stopped growing. The rich kid was still rich, but far less popular. Instead of being looked at as a legend, he was looked at as a nerd, while Steve Rogers took the title of the most popular kid in school. That's right, the same Steve Rogers who, in high school, had been the least popular kid in school, courtesy of Tony Stark. All that working out that had never quite worked out had finally paid off, and the scrawny kid became heavily muscled. He had the body shape of a dorito. His shoulders were twice the width of his waist, his abs were impeccable, and he was tall, very tall. By that point, he had about a foot on Tony, who then wore glasses and, only when standing next to Steve, was scrawny.

The two, by chance, ended up in the same college. Tony had his full ride academic scholarship, and Steve had his full ride football scholarship.

Steve Rogers spent his days practicing, working out, getting as good as he possibly good at football, and crushing on his old bully. He got classes with Tony, even if he didn't want to take him, just to still see the an and hear his half-assed teasing whenever they passed each other in the hallway. It always brought a smile to his face, because he would hear in the billionaire's voice that he didn't really mean what he said, and that, even if he still didn't know if Steve liked him, told him that at least the man didn't hate him. Tony's wrath towards those who had earned his hate was extreme and merciless, and Steve had never experienced it. In fact, he could almost swear that, from time to time, Tony's teasing even sounded affectionate.

One day passed, though, when Steve didn't see Tony anywhere. All his classes, Tony was gone. As far as Steve knew, the man didn't get sick, he didn't miss class, especially not the ones he loved so dearly. He'd seen Tony pull through class with a horrible hangover more than one, and even when his parents' death occurred, it was all over the news, the orphaned rich kid had only missed two days of school. If nothing else, Tony Stark was determined, and dedicated. Once he had a goal, he wouldn't just give it up, and with his current goals revolving around academics, missing one day of school was enough to worry Steve, so he put it out of his mind by staying out late after football practice while his team went back to the locker room without him, and taking a few extra laps to clear his head, but he simply couldn't stop thinking about his old bully, and current crush.

At the same time, all of Tony's thoughts were on Steve. For the first time in forever, he'd skipped school, stayed home all day thinking about what he was about to do, having a few too many drinks to convince himself that it was about time, and going to own up to his feelings for Steve. He hadn't always dealt with them so well, mostly just teasing Steve as if it would make his emotions go away. There was nothing worse for someone like him, who lived in the spotlight, with constant expectations, than being gay in a world of people who expected him to be straight, and probably wouldn't take him seriously in the business world if he wasn't. And so, he stayed quiet about it, but by some point, he couldn't take it anymore. He waited in the locker room, sitting by Steve's locker with a rose in his hands, but when the rest of the team came in, Steve didn't show, and he began to wonder if the man had stayed home sick. Reluctantly, the boy set the rose down on top of Steve's locker and began to head out, until he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey. You're that kid that's always making fun of Steve."

It was then, that Tony Stark knew he was screwed. The football team would do anything, and that meant anything, for their quarterback, especially one team member in particular. Bucky Barnes was head over heels for Steve, and it was painfully obvious, and, unfortunately, he was the one who had grabbed Tony's shoulder. In a moment, the nerd was pinned against the wall, and he squeezed his eyes shut as he was punched in the stomach. He took blow after blow, knowing he had it coming for what he had done to Steve all those years. No matter how bad it got, he refused to beg them to stop, until he heard Bucky say, "Put him in a locker!"

"Oh, hey! Whoa! I'm not gonna fit in a lock- ah!" Tony couldn't help but give a scream of pain as his shoulder was pushed out of place. While he was shoved into the locker, he barely even noticed, as he was too busy yelling in pain and holding his shoulder. By the time he realised what was happening, it was too late, and the locker door was slammed shut, and locked.

One by one, the team left, yelling insults over their shoulders towards Tony, and eventually leaving the man alone in the locker, sobbing softly in pain, but not before Bucky had gotten his word in.

"Listen here, Stark. Steve, he's mine. You and him, you'll never be worth anything. He hates you for what you've done to him, but he's too nice of a guy to ever be able to stay it, so I'm going to tell you myself. Steve. Hates. You. You're just a bully and a horrible person. He hates you. I hate you. Everyone hates you. You're a pathetic nerd who needs to get over himself. Either Steve or the janitor is going to find you here. You tell no one who did this to you, got it? No one will believe you anyways. Like I said, no one likes you."

And with that, Tony was alone. It might've been an hour, it might have been two, until he heard anything from outside the locker. Even then, it was only soft foot steps, and near silence aside from that, and, afraid that it might be one of the football players back to get him, Tony stayed absolutely silent, not saying a word.

As Steve walked into the locker room, he slipped off his uniform and stepped into the shower. The lockerroom was silent while he showered, and hummed softly to himself. The thoughts of Tony's absence had left his head after the excessive amounts of exercise, and stayed home while he relaxed under the hot water, eyes closed and head tilted up to face the showerhead. Only when he was walking back to his locker did he hear the whimpering. It stopped when he looked around, though, and he thought that he must have just been hearing things. Maybe there was a mouse running around or something. He heard it again, though, when he was pulling on his jeans. A bump in a nearby locker and a pained string of curses in a voice that he could swear he recognised. Rushing over to the locker, he rested both hands on the locker and worriedly asking, "Tony? Is that you?"

The quiet reply was, "Steve?"

"Tony! Oh my god! I'm gonna get you out, okay?!" Steve looked to the lock, tugging at it desperately, then leaning down to the lock and holding his ear to it. He spoke calmly to Tony as he listened for each click to tell him the combination of the lock, and, in a few minutes, he'd gotten the lock off, and quickly swung the door open, pulling Tony out and causing the smaller man to yell in horrible pain.

"My shoulder! My shoulder!"

"Oh, God, it's dislocated. Okay. Count to three. Relax."

"Why?!"

"Just do it!"

"Okay! Okay!" Tony said, taking deep breaths and squeezing his eyes shut. His good arm was holding onto Steve as he shook badly, his face pressed into the man's bare chest. He took a deep breath, eyes closed tight, body tense, and lower lip caught between his teeth. "One. Two. Thr- Gah!" As his shoulder was popped back into place, he screamed in pain and yelled at him, "What the hell was that for?!" There was a pause, then he exclaimed, "What the hell are you doing?!"

Steve had swept him off his feet, literally, and was carrying Tony bridal style, looking to the bruises and cuts that covered his body, courtesy of the football team, and then straightening up with the smaller man in his arms and saying, "I'm bringing you home, fixing you up, and you're telling me exactly who did this to you." And, just like that, Tony was whisked away by the man of his dreams.


	2. Chapter 2

The car ride was awkward, and that's putting it simply. Steve refused to let Tony go. He was overly worried, especially for someone currently taking care of his old bully, but, in all honesty, Tony didn't even really mind all that much. The quarterback was over protective, and he refused to let Tony out of his sight, or out of his arms for that matter, so for the duration of the ride home, the smaller man was precariously perched in the lap of the larger man, even while he drove, and the nerd did everything he could to not be in the way, making himself as small as possible, but it seemed like Steve was doing just fine either way, and even was able to adjust the radio while they drove, playing classic rock, as it seemed to be just Tony's type of music, and he was right about that. 

To Tony, who had just a few moments ago been scared out of his mind, shaking and crying and spending every moment wondering when the pain was going to end, the music was soothing. It was something out of his childhood, the type of music that his parents would play for him, until he lost them, and the music stopped playing. It was the type of music he'd always avoided, figuring it would just upset him, while in reality, it was soothing to the soul, so much so that while he was listening, he was snapped out of the real world, and didn't even notice when the car had stopped outside Steve's house, until the taller man gently nudged him, and murmured, "We're here. I'm gonna take you inside now, okay?" 

Silence.

As the radio was turned off, Tony nestled his head into the crook of Steve's neck, and was once again lifted off his feet. Some part of him felt guilty, making Steve do all the work, carry him and drive him around, especially after what Bucky had said, about how Steve hated him but was far too nice to say it. From the way the man acted, it made sense. Steve kept his distance, didn't talk to him much, and was cold and silent while he carried the man inside, or at least that's how Tony saw it. Steve's point of view was similar. Tony must have hated him, with all the teasing and taunting he so constantly dealt out, and with the way he didn't speak to him when he had brought him inside to take care of him, and tended to his wounds.

They were everywhere, honestly. Tony had a black eye, split lip, bloodied nose, and probably more under his shirt, which brought on the awkward moment of Steve asking if he could take Tony's clothes off, and the timid nod of the hurt man as he stared down at his lap, and pulled his shirt up over his head.

It took all of Steve's willpower not to stare.

Tony. Looked. Amazing.

Sure, he was rather small, and he wasn't quite as fit as Steve, but he was tanned, muscled, and absolutely covered in bruises and cuts, so much so that Steve hadn't even finished counting them by the time Tony had undone and slipped off his belt and jeans, and was left sitting there in his boxers and glasses, his eyes fixed down on his lap as he fidgeted awkwardly.

"Umm . . . I'm gonna go put your clothes in the wash and grab a first aid kit, okay?" Steve questioned, before leaving the room, and just letting Tony be by his lonesome.

The nerd immediately grew curious, getting to his feet after a few moments of debate and beginning to explore the room, his hands clasped together behind his back as he walked, and his eyes wandered over the walls. There were pictures, Steve seemed to be the sentimental type, and the room was normal, a little too normal for a college student. He couldn't find a single beer bottle, a single condom, not any drugs or anything, which was beyond surprising for the quarterback of the school's football team. It wasn't hard to see that most of the girls in the school, most being everyone but those who weren't interested in guys, were absolutely head over heels for the jock, and everyone had heard the stories of his sexual conquests, the rumours of how amazing he was in bed, how big he really was down there, though Steve refused to confirm these rumours, or to even acknowledge that they exists, and would just blush bright red whenever someone asked anything slightly related to sex. Once, he even furiously said something about fondue and ran off. 

"What in the world does sex even have to do with fondue?" Tony muttered under his breath as he remembered the incident, which he had remotely witnessed, and honestly felt a little bad about.

He lingered in front of a family picture of the wall, tilting his head to the side and looking at it. Young Steve was adorable, his parents looked kind, and the young Bucky was there as well. They really had been friends forever, and Steve seemed to consider Bucky a part of his family, like a brother, while Bucky wanted so much more than friendship from Steve, and in a far different way. Naturally, this brought an overprotective best friend, not a lot of opportunities for Steve to actually meet potential significant others, and, of course, situations like Tony's, where Bucky was somewhere beyond his normal state of overprotectiveness, and would take it out on those whom he perceived as threats. Why Tony would be perceived as a threat, though, he really didn't know. Like Bucky had said, Steve absolutely hated him, and was just too nice to say it. Nothing could ever happen between them, could it? No. Of course not. No point in thinking about it. He would just get his hopes up.

"Tony?"

The man sat back down at Steve's request, and let the man fix up his cuts in dead silence, cleaning up the cuts carefully and pressing an ice pack to the bruises, wherever they seemed to swell up badly, and doing everything he could to help the smaller man. Everything went swimmingly, until it came to Tony's shoulder, where Steve tried to clean up a cut, and Tony yelled in pain as soon as any pleasure was applied to the horribly swollen area.

"Don't! That hurts like hell!" Tony yelled unnecessarily, as it was highly visible that he was in extreme pain, and Steve had already pulled back and given Tony enough space to calm.

Once the smaller man's breathing had slowed to a normal rate, and he had folded his hands back down over his lap again, Steve sat down on the couch beside him, on the side of his hurt shoulder, and glanced to Tony, who was at least a head shorter than him. Without warning, he pinned Tony down on the couch, gripping his wrists, and kissing him passionately. His distraction worked beautifully, because the smaller man's face turned bright red, and all he could feel were Steve's lips, and not the makeshift sling that the taller man had carefully put on his arm.

Before either had really realised what they were doing, the kissing had escalated to making out, and then something much more. It was done off random instinct, gentle and passionate, without either party really having any idea why, or what they were doing, or why they'd let it get this far when it was so clear to them that the other party hated them more than life itself.

All Tony knew that Steve on top of him was amazing, and all Steve knew was that Tony below him was marvellous. By the end of the night, both of them were half sure they were in love, and ended up spooning on the couch, sleeping, and covered only by a few blankets that Steve had grabbed from his bed and brought over so that the smaller man wouldn't have to move. 

Halfway through the night, though, he left. Tony simply left, in his boxers and Steve's shirt, and walked home alone, hugging himself with his good arm as he made his way along the side of the dark and empty street. Steve wouldn't want him around for longer than he had to have him there, Tony was convinced. However he had to explain the sex in his mind, he did. Maybe it was just a pity fuck, or maybe he just liked him for his body, or something along those lines. In any case, it couldn't be because Steve actually liked him.

That would be insane


	3. Chapter 3

Bucky wasn't happy.

Tony came to school with a hickey on his neck, red marks on his wrists from being held down by Steve, not at all against his will, and with a sling on his arm that Steve had told him he should keep on for about two or three weeks. As opposed to his usual eccentric persona, he talked less, flirted less, stopped raising his hand in class, and just kept his head down to try to stay out of trouble, and away from the football team, Bucky especially. That was pointless, though. Rumours had started, and, though Steve tried to deny them all for Tony's sake, Bucky would take any excuse to pick on the man he perceived to be his competition.

The nerd would constantly go back to his place, bruised again and horribly beaten, and, from time to time, would be carried to the nurses office, unconscious. Quite a few of those times, the person carrying him was Steve, who would walk in after fights between Tony and Bucky, if you could even call them fights, as they were usually incredibly one sided and Bucky always came out the victor. Tony only fought back once, which ended up with his shoulder being pushed back out of place, and the boy being rushed to the hospital, where he had to stay overnight, and was visited by Steve while he was sleeping.

The two really hadn't spoken to each other when it happened. Steve had convinced himself that Tony didn't like him, and wasn't in his right mind when they had slept together, when he had cried out the man's name and pleaded for- well- you know. Meanwhile, Tony was convinced that it was only a one night stand, that it was done out of pity, maybe some sort of distraction for the pain, and that Steve really wasn't interested in him. To say sorry for the sex, he'd left the shirt he'd taken from Steve in front of his locker, wrapped up in a bow, with a thank you card on top that he'd awkwardly signed with his left hand.

Of course, seeing that card, the folded and washed shirt, and Tony's awful signature, had only made things harder for Steve. The card remained under the pillow on his bed, and when Bucky found it there, he put Tony in the hospital, again. Steve wouldn't let that one go.

Tony remained in the hospital for a few days that time, and was told that his arm might never heal properly. He didn't talk much, even to Pepper, his best friend, who sat by his bedside every day, until visiting hours ended, and sometimes delivered gifts for Steve, who was far too nervous to bring them in person. Of course, Tony never believed that they were from Steve. His friend knew about his feelings for Steve, about everything that happened between them, and so he did figured that she just told him the gifts were from Steve in hopes of cheering him up. His mood never really improved, aside from the giant box of chocolates. That was nice.

Everyone knew just what had ended Tony up in the hospital by the second time around, except Steve, who was painfully oblivious to the things Bucky had done, or maybe just didn't want to acknowledge it, even if he was subconsciously aware. Eventually, though, the truth couldn't be avoided, and the rumours eventually got to Steve. At first, he didn't want to believe it, but then, it made perfect sense, and it was enough to drag him out of school and to the hospital, to actually talk to him.

Unfortunately, Bucky had already been there a few days ago, to have a little 'chat' with Tony, and afterwards, Tony had refused to say where the bruises on his throat came from. All the doctors could tell was that it was from a human hand, but couldn't look for more specifics because Tony wouldn't let them. He hadn't even spoken a word except "no" since then, until Steve arrived.

"Was it Bucky?!" Steve yelled as he walked into the room and leaned over Tony's bed, expecting Tony's usual sassy response, possibly telling him to piss off, shoving him away, or just cursing at him. Instead, he got absolutely nothing. The man took a few steps back and, for a moment, just stared. It didn't look like Tony had slept in at least a few days, he was unkempt and pale, too skinny for Steve's liking, and wow, did he look damaged. Bruises were scattered over his body, his shoulder was in a brace instead of a cast, and he just looked . . . broken.

Slowly, the man approached again, and his hand moved to Tony's cheek as the smaller man just stared into empty space and didn't even acknowledge Steve's presence. He softly said, "I-I'm so sorry . . . this is my fault."

"No." And that was all he said, no, or sometimes yes, as Steve asked him question after question.

Are you doing okay? No. Are you going to be okay? A one shouldered shrug. Can you tell me who did this? No. Was it Bucky? Nothing. Tony, I know it was Bucky. Nothing. Tony, you need to answer me. Nothing. I can't stop this unless you tell me who did it! So?

Steve looked to him in shock, and Tony rolled his eyes, some of his old sarcasm showing through as he gave a laugh. Finally, he spoke more than a word at a time, and Steve found himself immediately wishing that he hadn't. "Look, Steve. You pity me. I get that. I'm a complete mess, but you don't have to act like you actually care. I'm a horrible person. I'm a bully. You hate me. I get it. So, you don't have to keep leaving me stuff. I deserve this. I know I do."

"Did Bucky tell you all this?" Steve whispered, knowing just how cruel and convincing his best friend would be, even though he usually didn't do it unless the person on the receiving end truly deserved it.

There was a period of silence, in which Tony just stared at the wall, and Steve watched him, which only ended when Steve climbed into the bed with him, and laid beside Tony, sliding his arms around the smaller man gently and just holding him for a moment, letting him relax before beginning to speak. "Tony, I do not hate you. I've been in love with you since high school, when you picked on me and it was so clear that you didn't really mean anything of it, that you just wanted to be cool, and so I let you. Then, this year, I thought I might finally get your attention, and I got a bunch of classes with you so that I could be around you more, and, honestly, even though you just ended up teasing me all over again, I still loved you. And then I found you in that locker, and my heart broke, but, I just couldn't help myself, and I shouldn't have taken advantage of you like that, but I did, and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

" . . . Bucky's the one who did this to me," Tony whispered, and Steve kissed his lips, hard and passionately, thanked him a million times for finally telling the truth, and ran to get a doctor, to find someone who could take care of it, who could help Tony, and who could make everything better.

\---

A year passed.

Bucky had been sent to jail on charges of assault and attempted murder, and he would be there for quite a long time. 

Tony would never fully his arm again, and wore a sling for it at all times. He'd learned to use his left hand, and every now and then would be able to wiggle the fingers on his right hand a little, and would run to Steve to tell him, laugh with him, and kiss him.

Steve nursed his lover back to health, protecting him and taking him to see doctors, therapists, and managing to convince him to sell his company, and move out to a wooded island near Seattle with him. He followed his dream of becoming an artist, and stayed with Tony, finally being able to be with the man he loved.

The two dropped out of college to get married, made new friends, kept some old ones, and Pepper Potts was the best man at their wedding, which made Sam Wilson the bridesmaid. 

That first winter, the two sat outside, a scarf wrapped around them both as they huddled up in a blanket and stared up at the sky, with the smaller man sitting in the lap of the larger man, and Steve's arms securely around Tony, a happy smile on his face.

At the first snowflake, Tony jumped to his feet, cheering happily and catching it on his tongue, jumping up and down and waving his arm in the air as he rambled to Steve about how amazing it was. The two had spent all their lives in the Las Vegas area, and had never seen a white Christmas before, but man was it amazing, and Steve just stared and laughed as the smaller man jumped around in the thin layer of snow that was forming.

That night, Tony fell asleep in front of the fireplace, curled up in a blanket, and Steve sat there, sketching him again, and just looking at the happy smile on the man's face, only stopping when he had finished up the sketch, and carrying his lover up the stairs and into bed. They fell asleep in each other's arms, and, for once, everything was good.


End file.
